The Sound of Sunshine
by Spark Writer
Summary: Reynie Muldoon is seventeen...what does his future hold? Adventure? Intrigue? Hope? ...Kate?
1. In the Years Past

**Hi! I really missed the MBS, so I decided to write another story about these fabulous characters. For the record, this is set four years in the future; Reynie is seventeen. ...Weird, huh? But hey, with any luck, this will seem appropriately IC. Carpe diem, people! **

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Stonetown was singing that day; the throngs of pedestrians gabbled merrily, the seagulls wheeled overhead, and not one person in the whole of the city could be caught frowning.

It was a beautiful day.

Likewise, perched on the sunny window ledge of Mr. Benedict's exceedingly ancient house, Reynie Muldoon was smiling for absolutely no reason at all. Well, no, he _did _have one reason—_summer_. After a wearisome year crammed with tedious college exams (Reynie had finished college at the fresh age of seventeen) he was truly looking forward to three months of reposing. He dangled his feet into thin air as a small child would have done, relishing the limitless sensation of his future. There had been setbacks, of course—failing an exam on molecular biology despite Sticky's extensive coaching, and nearly quitting school due to stress. But Reynie was not a quitter, so he persevered. Now, he felt a need to sort out his thoughts and give his summer a fresh start.

Reynie had recently concluded a harrowing growth spurt, putting him five inches taller than Miss Perumal. This annoyed Sticky and amused Kate, both of whom were shorter. Constance, of course, had always been petite, and therefore considered it her duty to compose teasing poetry. Reynie was unperturbed by this, and often returned the "compliment."

He and Sticky had sailed through college, and were considering their current options. Reynie wanted to work with Mr. Benedict, as did Sticky, though Sticky was sorely tempted by the glories of the academic world. He often dreamed of becoming a renowned professor. Kate, on the other hand, was more the physical type. Reynie grinned, imagining Kate slogging through schoolwork at some university. Not likely, to say the least. Then there was Constance, the ever-talented poet. She certainly had a knack for sarcastic humor. Her psychic abilities had greatly improved, though she didn't advertise this fact. The entire house was cheery and companionable; its inhabitants had become a supportive family through passage of time and circumstance.

Reynie ruffled his brown hair, stretched, and frowned, thinking he had just heard footsteps in the courtyard below. Indeed, Kate appeared, her long mane of blond hair hiding her face from view. Reynie almost called out to her, then thought better of it, choosing to observe her instead. She plopped down in the center of the courtyard, turned her face up to the sun, and was still. This, thought Reynie, was odd behavior for Kate. A moment after that, Sticky came strolling along, his spectacles reflecting the brilliant sunlight. He joined Kate, and they began talking animatedly—though too far away for Reynie to hear. He eventually realized that his contented smile had vanished, replaced by pensive expression and furrowed brow. He was irritated with himself; irritated with the inexplicable stir of envy that arose when he watched Kate and Sticky's forms.

Averting his gaze, he peered at his watch, casting about for a distraction. From within the house, a peal of laughter shattered the stillness, followed by more laughter. Feeling somehow isolated by this, Reynie eased back through his window and into the gloom beyond. The first floor corridor was devoid of people, though one could hear Number Two clacking away on her computer at the end of the hall. Heading for the stairs, Reynie took them two at a time, looking around to make certain that Constance wasn't lurking nearby. She wasn't. He strode into the sitting room, relieved to have found company. On the sofa sat Miss Perumal with Mrs. Perumal beside her, knitting away. Rhonda was sorting through a monstrous pile of books, Mr. Washington coughing from the dust. And sitting on the floor—it was an old habit of his, though he no longer suffered from narcolepsy—was Mr. Benedict. Reynie absorbed this pleasing scene in a few seconds, smiling at everyone and going to sit by Miss Perumal.

"What have you been up to?" asked Miss Perumal, looking moderately concerned.

"I was on the window ledge," Reynie informed her. "Amma, it was quite safe," he added in response to her widening eyes. "I was only sitting and thinking about—everything."

Miss Perumal patted his cheek. "I don't doubt that."

Her mother, Mrs. Perumal, interrupted. "Isn't anyone going to congratulate my accomplishment?" She brandished her finished product, a sort of lump of blue yarn.

"It's lovely, Mrs. Perumal," said Rhonda. Her voice was somewhat muffled, due to the stack of books from behind which she sat.

"Yes, well, I've been knitting like a fiend," said Mrs. Perumal.

Reynie smiled to himself, and wished Kate had been there to witness this moment. Remembering that she was chatting with Sticky in the courtyard, he fidgeted restlessly.

"Reynie," said Mr. Benedict, "you haven't seen Constance, have you? I can't recall seeing her any time after lunch."

"Well," said Reynie, "she might be in her room. I can check, if you like." He glanced questioningly at Mr. Benedict.

"Thank you, Reynie, but I should really go look for her." He grinned ruefully. "I'm astonishingly lazy; this is good for me."

"Don't say that," admonished Miss Perumal. "As if we're any better."

"What's that about an Irish Setter?" Mrs. Perumal leaned toward the others in order that she should hear more clearly.

Reynie squeezed his grandmother's hand. "I don't think you heard right," he informed her. "Amma said—well, never mind. Besides, your version of the story was more thought-provoking anyhow."

Mrs. Perumal looked mollified.

Feeling lonely for his friends, Reynie rose from his seat on the sofa, and went off in search of the others. He nearly collided with Number Two, who was hungrily devouring a pear. "Excuse me," she apologized. "I'm off to speak with Mr. Benedict. He's still in the sitting room?"

"Yes," Reynie chuckled. "Reading."

Number Two thanked him and hurried off.

Reynie arrived in the courtyard a minute later and spotted Kate and Sticky right away. He hastened over.

"Hey, you two!"

They turned around, smiling expectantly. "Reynie, where have you been all this time?" Kate tweaked his ear. "Reading?"

"Not this time, no," he admitted. "I suppose I just needed some time to think…and reflect."

"By the way you're speaking, you make it sound as if we're all living in a giant puddle."

Sticky chuckled.

"Sometimes I think I was born with my eyes facing the wrong way. I'm always in my head."

"It's not just your eyes that are facing the wrong way!" Constance had arrived on the scene, smirking impishly at Reynie. "I believe your ears are facing the wrong way t—"

"Put a sock in it," Kate advised her.

Reynie pursed his lips, trying not to laugh at this exchange. "Hello to you too," he grinned.

Constance rolled her eyes. "You are revoltingly polite, Reynie Muldoon."

"And you are revoltingly—_revolting!_" Sticky burst.

"Oh, Sticky." Kate shook her head. "Four years of college and that's all you've got to say?"

Sticky blushed and glanced sheepishly at Reynie. "Sorry about that."

"Sticky, you're a genius! Your brain is too busy formulating brilliant ideas to waste time coming up with retaliations."

"Thank you," said Sticky. He had reclaimed his dignity, thanks to one exceedingly polite friend.

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**Until next time...**

**-Spark Writer-  
**

**Your thoughts are always**** welcome!**


	2. Between Bookshelves

**Enjoy the second installment in this new MBS fic. I so appreciate your touching reviews, and hope you find this chapter to be most satisfactory. :)**

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The following morning, Reynie awoke itching to visit the Stonetown library. It had already been too long since he'd visited, and it would do him good to immerse himself in the many books that the library was home to. And although it was summer, he never could go without reading for too long.

Over breakfast, Reynie discussed his plans with the others. Sticky looked rather tired and owlish, having spent the entire night previous skimming through his dictionaries, "for fun."

"The only thing more fun than that," Constance had remarked, "would be getting your toenails pulled out, one by one." She looked as though she relished the thought.

Constance herself claimed that she was busy that morning—composing rude poetry, no doubt. In the end, only Kate was free to accompany Reynie to the library. She seemed slightly reluctant to forfeit the sunny morning for dusty bookshelves, but upon seeing Reynie's hopeful expression, she privately put away her plans and agreed to go along. They strolled out into the midst of cheerful chaos; this normally ensued each morning. The hustle and bustle of noisy automobiles, the shouts of exuberant young children and the faint crash of ocean waves breaking against the docks. Reynie felt exhilarated and expansive as he walked beside Kate. The brightness of the day seemed to give him a message: Failure is Impossible.

So confident was he, that he found himself grinning broadly—much to Kate's frank amusement.

"What are you grinning about, Reynie? Plotting something?"

"No…It's just that the sun is so bright, and the world seems so—_alive._ I can't help but get swept up in the optimistic atmosphere."

Kate smiled. "Or maybe all that sun is going to your head. I said _maybe!"_ she added, as Reynie frowned at her in mock anger.

They crossed the street, the sprawling library looming into view. Reynie began to walk a bit faster, eager to reach the building.

"Good gravy!"

Reynie smiled to himself; it had been a while since he'd heard Kate use that expression.

"Slow down, will you?"

"Sorry," he apologized. "I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself."

Kate wrinkled her nose and Reynie assumed she was irritated with his bookish enthusiasm. On the contrary, she was staring at a man on an adjacent street corner.

"What is it, Kate?" prodded Reynie, following her gaze. The man was enveloped in a newspaper; "The Stonetown Times."

"For a minute there, I could have sworn that was Crawlings." Kate narrowed her ocean-blue eyes and pursed her lips. "No, no, wait—he has both his eyebrows." She turned to Reynie and grinned. "Close call, huh?"

"Very," Reynie agreed. Despite the fact that the man was just an ordinary businessman, Reynie's heart had sped up a bit, and he felt keen to depart the scene.

"We've had some good times, haven't we?" Kate smiled impishly. "Outsmarting Mr. Curtain, making fools out of the Ten Men—the works."

"And the fact that we found each other," added Reynie. He winced inwardly, realizing how his words had come out. "I mean, everyone in the Society. Think about it, if it weren't for Mr. Benedict, you wouldn't have found Milligan, Constance wouldn't have a father and Sticky's parents wouldn't have located him. We're all immensely lucky."

He looked down at Kate; she was retying her long golden-blond ponytail. It was the little things like this—the familiarity of certain people—that made friendship so satisfying. Though Reynie spent a great deal of time convincing himself that his feelings for Kate were purely platonic, he simply couldn't erase his feelings. He had always loved Kate; like a sister, a good friend. But somehow she had managed to take root in both his mind _and _heart, and that was disconcerting.

Reynie considered himself a highly intelligent, empathetic person. However, it was more difficult for him to place his trust in people than the others supposed. He trusted Kate with his life, and knew she felt the same about him. There was some invisible appeal about her, a confidence, a loyalty, a brash sort of bravery that Reynie found inexorably irresistible. He often wondered what exactly she thought of him. Did she, too, have feelings for him that extended beyond friendship? Or did this hope exist purely in Reynie's imagination? He hoped not.

"Earth to Reynie." Kate winked at him, and pointed ahead. "Look, we're nearly there." Indeed, the library stood dauntingly before them, its double doors propped open by a wooden chair upon which a guard dozed, his keys juggling with each raucous snore. An elderly woman exiting the library threw him a look of disdain, and tottered off, muttering. Kate and Reynie grinned at each other.

The interior of the library was dim in comparison with the brilliant sunshine outside, and it took Reynie a few moments to adjust to the sudden gloom. It was quite impossible to see beyond the mammoth book cases, so the two teenagers wove between shelves until they reached the back of the library. Here, the air was so saturated with dust, Reynie was amazed he could even breathe. They sat down in two uncomfortably low armchairs and stared at each other.

"Sorry about these chairs," Reynie said with a rueful smile. "It feels as though my head is level with my knees."

"Oh, stop looking for trouble. I'm not mad, you know." Kate said this with her usual brusqueness, so that she did not seem angry. "What now? Don't tell we came all this way to a library just to _talk._"

Reynie shrugged. "Now that we're here, I don't really feel like opening a single book." He shifted in his seat, to see Kate better. "So, tell me something."

Kate raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"What do you think you'd like to do after this summer? I mean, what do you want your future to hold?"

"I'm not exactly sure," Kate began. "I'd love to help Mr. Benedict with his work—"

"As would I," Reynie interjected.

"But Milligan might agree to let me travel a bit, too. I really want to see the world, Reynie. The world outside Stonetown!"

"I feel the same way," Reynie agreed. "But, Kate—if you left us to travel, I'd miss you. We all would," he concluded sadly.

"I'd send you a postcard now and then," Kate joked. Seeing that Reynie was sincerely unhappy, her expression became more somber. "Listen. We've fought a war together—and _won._ No amount of distance will ever really keep us apart. Not really."

Reynie leaned forward, his lips curving into an appreciative grin. "When did you become so wise, Kate Weatherall?"

"I learned it from the brown haired goof sitting across from me."

There was a pause.

"I see," said Reynie, with a smile.

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**Review? Oh, come on-you know you want to...**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	3. To Be Brave

**Greetings! I admit I wasn't particularly impressed with this chapter's start, but I am pleased with the ending and hope you like/love it, too. :) For many of you, "Kaynie" is a mere concept, but I hope to make it a successful reality. Whew, tough job!**

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Long after the inhabitants of Mr. Benedict's house were safely nestled in their beds, (save for the ever-working Number Two—and Mr. Benedict himself) Reynie awoke to the sound of loud thumping. He sat up groggily, and frowned at the wall opposite. Who on earth would have the audacity to make such a racket at this hour? He lifted his watch arm almost to his nose, and squinted at it. Unable to make out the time in this darkness, Reynie fumbled for his lamp. When it clicked on, he slid out of bed, strode to his door, and carefully turned the knob.

The corridor was calm and empty, though the crashing was growing increasingly louder and more frantic. Leaving his bedroom door open to cast light into the dark hall, Reynie traced the sound upstairs to Sticky's room. He knocked on Sticky's door, waited, and knocked again.

"Sticky?" he called rather tentatively. The door swung open, and Sticky appeared, his eyes dark with anger behind his wire-rimmed spectacles.

"What?" he snapped.

"You probably have a good explanation for this," said Reynie, beginning to chuckle, "but would you mind clarifying the reason for all this noise?"

Sticky crossed his arms and stood aside, allowing Reynie into his room. They were confronted with a dismal sight. Books, papers, newspaper clippings, and loose-leaf notes were scattered across every horizontal surface in the room. To Reynie, it looked as if a paper shredder had vomited its contents all over Sticky's room.

"What happened?" he inquired. "Did you lose 'A History of English Literature'?"

Sticky, looking extremely vexed, shook his head. "No. Lately I've been feeling uncertain as to what I want to do with my life. I feel like a huge failure, Reynie. None of this—" he gestured to the disarray around him, "means anything anymore. It's all a bunch of meaningless academic awards. They don't mean that I'm brave or interesting or—or stimulating."

Reynie smiled at his friend. "Would you believe me if I told you that I feel the same way?"

Sticky twitched, putting Reynie in mind of a rhinoceros flicking a fly from its back. "You're lying."

"I'm not," Reynie assured him. "Honestly." He shifted a stack of papers from Sticky's bed and sat, looking Sticky straight in the eye. "Listen, Sticky. You have to move past this."

"Oh, yes?" Sticky huffed. "To what are you referring?"

"You know exactly what I'm referring to." Reynie glared fiercely at his friend. "You're doing a disservice to yourself by convincing your mind that you're a failure! You're not, Sticky. I'm your best friend; I know that better than anyone."

Sticky blinked, obviously caught off guard. "I'm sorry for being such a disappointment," he muttered.

"You're doing it again!" Reynie admonished. He knew Sticky suffered from chronic lack of self-esteem, and felt for his friend. He took a deep, soothing breath and began again. "Alright. I'm going to help you overcome this," he said determinedly.

"I don't need your pity," Sticky said heatedly.

"What?" Reynie was taken aback.

"I don't need anyone's disappointment, Reynie. Nothing is wrong with me."

Reynie's stomach sank to his toes. "Why, Sticky, I never said it was! Is that what you thought I meant?"

Sticky shrugged evasively, trying and failing to appear unaffected. "Would you mind leaving?" he asked in a low voice. "I'd like to be alone."

Reynie turned and faltered at the door. "Sticky—just know this: you're smart and interesting and immensely gifted. You wouldn't be here if you weren't. And although you never believe me when I say this, you _are _brave. Being brave has nothing to do with being unafraid, but has everything to do with experiencing the fear and pushing through it! Just—think about that…" Reynie gave Sticky a quicksilver smile and was gone.

Out in the shadowy hallway, Reynie was surprised to see Kate and Constance hovering in the background, their faces anxious. "Were you by chance—eavesdropping?" he asked with delight.

"Oh, stop looking so satisfied, pal." Kate punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Hey, that was a pretty impressive speech, a minute ago."

"Yeah, well…" Reynie smiled at this praise, feeling that he did deserve a portion of it.

"Yes, frightfully fascinating," said Constance, with a yawn. "I'm quite enamored." She yawned again.

Reynie flashed her a look of irritation. "I'm catching you drift, you know."

"It sure took you long enough. Come on," she added, beckoning the others, "let's go back to sleep."

"I couldn't have said it better myself." Kate looked relieved at this suggestion, and squeezed Reynie's shoulder briefly before departing for her room. "You've got a mind, Reynie…"

She left, and Reynie resented the loss of her warm hand on his shoulder. Kate was only four steps away, yet much too far for Reynie's liking. He wanted to follow her, face her, voice his tremendous feelings for her. He had never considered himself an anxious person, but that was the only way to describe his jitters.

Fear of rejection was keeping him from the dearest person in his life…and that would have to change. _Remember the white knight, _thought Reynie. _Don't doubt yourself._

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__**...Well? Is there a fraction of your mind that just might accept Kaynie? Maybe/possibly/perhaps?  
**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	4. Friends

**I give you: The fourth chapter of "The Sound of Sunshine!" Read, enjoy, ponder, and all that jazz...**

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Sticky did not come down to breakfast that morning; it was well-past noon before anyone spotted him. Reynie wondered if her ought to have spoken to Sticky, and hoped his friend wasn't angry at him. It was at times like this that life seemed so _messy—_as though the calm surface of their lives was merely a humdrum mirage. Reynie, trying to finish his breakfast, had lost his appetite and continually flicked his eyes to the door and back to his plate as though plagued with a facial tick. Miss Perumal gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm.

"He'll come around," she whispered significantly.

Reynie smiled gratefully. "I'm sure you're right, Amma. Sticky's sort of at a cross-roads."

From across Reynie, Constance dropped her spoon into her cereal bowl, with a clatter. Number Two shot the girl a look of deepest annoyance. "Sticky feels embarrassed right now," she informed them. "He desperately wants be the person we know he can be, but he doesn't know if he has enough courage." After this prophetic speech, she began devouring an apple.

"Impressive," Kate said admiringly from beside Constance.

"Quite," agreed Milligan. He winked at Kate. "Your skills have developed, Constance."

Constance lifted her chin with smug superiority. Several years before, she would have retaliated with rude poetry to mask her pleasure at being praised, but she now considered herself too old for that kind of nonsense. She tugged her features into a frown, and only Reynie spotted the shine in her blue eyes. Kate tweaked Constance's ear. "You're going places, Connie girl."

Constance blushed. She wished Mr. Benedict had been present to witness this pleasing scene, but he dreadfully tired after yet another sleepless night, and had kept to his study. She glanced at Reynie, who was staring at Kate. Constance looked back at Reynie, her eyes narrowed. Never had he worn such a blissful expression. Her mind whirring, she stared down at the dregs of her cereal, thinking furiously. Was it possible that Reynie _liked _Kate? Constance nearly gagged at the thought. She stole another quick look at Kate, happily retying her ponytail. At least Kate showed no signs of abnormality. Reynie tore his eyes from Kate, and pushed his bowl aside, glancing again at the door. With a sigh, he rose from his chair and headed for the door. Constance smirked to herself, feeling rather malicious. She knew an extremely important bit of information, so secret that she was certain Reynie had trouble admitting it to himself.

Now _this _was a Saturday worth waiting for.

On the second floor, Reynie approached Sticky's door, slightly unnerved by the silence within. Not wanting to barge in on Sticky's private thoughts, he knocked softly at the door.

"What, Reynie?"

Reynie smiled. "Can I come in?"

"I suppose."

Reynie opened the door and stood in the doorway. Sticky was slumped in his desk chair, facing away from Reynie.

"Did Mr. Benedict make you come up here?"

"Of course not," Reynie assured him. "I wanted to know why you weren't at breakfast."

"Too embarrassed," mumbled Sticky.

"Funny," Reynie remarked. "That's just what Constance said."

Sticky's shoulders tensed. "I'm not mad at you," he informed Reynie. "I completely agree with what you said last night. It's just—how I think is how I _live_…and it'll take a lot of nerve to change that."

"Well, what are friends for?" Reynie crossed the room and perched on the edge of Sticky's cluttered desk. "I'll always be here for you. I've never meant anything more sincerely in my life."

"Thanks." Sticky drew a shuddery breath and looked up at Reynie. "I'm not an idiot, am I?"

"No more than the rest of us." Reynie grinned slyly. "I'm kidding, Sticky. You're remarkable."

Sticky smiled, and rubbed his nose self-consciously. "Hey, as a matter of fact, I _did _lose 'A History of English Literature.' Would you mind helping me look for it?"

"Sure," agreed Reynie.

As the two boys began searching the room, there was a firm knock and Kate entered without waiting for an answer. "What are you boys up to?" she inquired.

Reynie straightened from his spot under Sticky's chest of drawers, and blushed. "I was only checking in on Sticky," he informed her. "Hey, is Constance with you?"

Kate frowned, then glanced around. "What—she was here a minute ago, Reynie! Where can she have gotten to?"

Sticky peered irritably into the corridor beyond his room. "If she thinks this is funny…" he trailed off, too annoyed to finish his sentence.

"Anyway," Kate said cheerfully, "It's good to have you back, Sticky. There was no one around to conjugate Latin, at breakfast. Well," she added thoughtfully, "Reynie probably could have, but he's not the type to advertise it." She caught Reynie's eye and winked.

Reynie felt his lips upturn in spite of themselves, and averted his eyes quickly. At that moment, Number Two came tramping into the room, looking care-worn and hungry. After telling the four young people off for being late for their morning exercises ("We have exercises in the summer?" Kate had asked with consternation.) Number Two ushered them out of the room.

And closed the door.

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**Alright, down to business. Ahem. Review?**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	5. Enough

**Argh, this took so long to write! This document vanished mysteriously, and I was forced to re-write it, word for word. Finally, I give you: Chapter five! Enjoy!**

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"I despise Mondays," growled Constance. "They curl my toes, they roil my stomach, they—"

"Enough!" shouted Number Two, looking extremely vexed. "Constance, I realize you hate to visit your uncle, but it's a legal requirement."

Constance thrust her spoon into her cereal bowl with a vengeance. Her friends looked on with a mixture of amusement and concern, for they didn't fancy a visit with the malevolent Mr. Curtain either. Each Monday morning, Number Two, Mr. Benedict, Rhonda and Constance were compelled to have a visitation period with Mr. Curtain where he now resided—Stonetown's high-security prison. Though Constance obviously experienced a great deal of anxiety around this event, anger was her primary emotion; it seemed easier for her to convey.

Reynie looked around at the people seated around the inviting dining room table; Milligan was whistling cheerily as he read bits of the Stonetown times over Rhonda's shoulder, Number Two and Mr. Benedict were discussing the merits trigonometry, Miss Perumal and Pati were giggling with Mrs. Washington about past lovers (Mr. Washington looked rather disgruntled) and Kate and Sticky were having a spirited dispute about Kate's abysmal awareness of French.

"You're butchering the pronunciation," Sticky groaned. "But do try again."

Kate narrowed her eyes and erupted with a long tangle of words. She beamed, quite proud of her abilities.

Sticky was wincing and rubbing his temples.

"How was that, Reynie?" Kate asked.

Before Reynie had a chance to answer, however, Sticky interrupted. "Why are you asking him? He knows hardly any French!"

"Exactly," sniggered Kate. "I figured he would make me look better than I really am."

Reynie chuckled. "It was a good try, Kate."

Kate winked at Sticky, and began devouring her toast. Constance still appeared to be deeply unhappy, and muttered threateningly to her corn flakes.

Reynie, having lost interest in breakfast, glanced furtively at Kate, admiring her hair. It was free of its usual hair-tie, and fell nearly to her waist, a lovely shade of flaxen. He followed the line of her tresses with his eyes, appreciating Kate's unconventional, athletic beauty. So riveted was Reynie, that when Constance gazed across the table suspiciously at him, he neglected to notice. She smirked to herself, much cheered.

Kate finished her toast and turned to Reynie. Seeing his absorbed expression, she frowned. "What? Do I have toothpaste on me or something?"

"Wha—no, of course not!" Reynie commanded himself not to betray signs of sentimentality. Blushing, for instance.

"Well, what were you thinking about?"

"Um, I don't think you want to know," blurted Reynie. There was a dreadfully awkward pause. Reynie wished he possessed the ability to vanish.

"You can trust us," prodded Kate. "We're your _friends._"

Sticky glanced between Kate and Reynie, confused and anxious.

Reynie waved this off. "It was nothing, honestly."

"Oh, fine. Being mysterious suits you, at any rate."

Not sure if was a complement or not, Reynie smiled.

From the opposite end of the table, Rhonda spoke. "You four really ought to take a walk. It's a gorgeous day."

It _was._ Reynie peered out the bay window and saw a shocking blue sky stained with sunlight, and nary a cloud in the sky. It was so beautiful he felt he could float away.

"Yes," agreed Mr. Benedict. "A walk may improve your mood prior to visiting Ledroptha, Constance." He gave her a significant look.

Moments later, the four young people strolled into a brilliant morning, across the front yard—through the wrought iron gate, and along the hedge. All around were giddy children clutching balloons, slightly harassed looking business people, and street vendors loudly advertising their wares. The combination of good weather, early summer, and his friends made Reynie feel expansive and bold. He nearly slipped his hand into Kate's.

But something told him that regardless of time, maturity and courage, he would never be ready _enough._

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**What do you think?**

**-Spark Writer-**


	6. Kissing Kate

**Ack! This chapter was SO hard to write. I spent a great deal of time writing and re-writing practically every sentence. I hope you enjoy this; Kaynie is new for me. Thank you for your lovely support and reviews. I'm truly indebted to you. =)**

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At the moment, Reynie was battling an unsettling blend of anxiety, hope and excitement. This was due to a seemingly mundane event: He and Kate had been assigned kitchen duty. He'd spent so long bottling his feelings for her in the crevices of his heart, that he was afraid he'd slip up and do something stupidly impetuous, just to make up for lost time. Reynie rubbed his forehead, sighed, then straightened his shoulders. He knew he was not the type to kiss a girl out of the blue. Polite, some would call him, even gentlemanly. But Reynie felt like neither of these things—rather, he sincerely wished he _wasn't_ so careful all the time. It was at times like this that he wished he had the nerve to ask for Miss Perumal's advice. However, that would come at a cost, and Reynie didn't fancy being so dreadfully embarrassed.

_Stop being so gloomy, _he commanded himself. _Act natural…be yourself. _Reynie glanced at his reflection in the hall mirror, assessing his features. Though he had brown hair and eyes, and was of average build, he wasn't entirely plain. For instance, his eyes were slightly almond shaped, and he was blessed with a light spattering of freckles. Besides, he was certainly quite tall for his age. Smoothing his hair rather self-consciously, Reynie swung around and headed for the kitchen.

When he arrived, he saw Kate at the sink, attacking a pile of grimy dishes. She glanced up, saw Reynie, and grinned. "What on earth took you so long? I've been wrestling with these dishes for ten minutes!"

"Forgive me," said Reynie, apologetically.

"Oh, for goodness sakes, I was _kidding!_" Kate rolled her eyes. "You don't have to act all chivalrous all the time, you know."

Reynie laughed. "Yes, I suppose I need to lighten up a bit." He joined Kate at the sink, fighting a sudden surge of butterflies in his stomach.

"Milligan was here a moment ago," Kate began, confidentially, "and he told me that Mr. Benedict proposed that he take a day off from his work, and bring us all down to the bay. Sounds fun, don't you think?"

Nodding, Reynie wiped soapsuds from his arm. "It does. And even though Constance claims that she hates the sand, I know she really loves it when Mr. Benedict joins us for the day."

"We all do," said Kate with a smile. "When one of us is missing, it's sort of like a piece is missing from the puzzle."

"I know exactly what you mean," Reynie agreed. "I felt that way all the time when I lived in the Stonetown Orphanage."

Kate paused, mid-scrub. "I'm really sorry about that," she said, more quietly than usual. "I can't imagine what it would be like without a parent, now that I have Milligan."

Reynie waved this off. "I might not have a biologically related family, but Amma and Pati and the rest of you are my family for sure."

Kate beamed. "I'm glad you were an orphan, if it meant that you took Mr. Benedict's tests and met us."

"I could say the same thing for you," Reynie chuckled. "Fate had a plan for us."

There was a pause.

Kate laid her sponge on the counter, and turned back to Reynie; she was wearing an odd expression. "What d'you mean?"

Reynie tried to compose himself. "I mean, the fact that we're here….with Mr. Benedict," he added quickly.

"Of course," Kate said. "With Mr. Benedict."

"And everyone else," Reynie added.

"And me?"

Reynie's gaze snapped onto Kate. "What?" he asked apprehensively.

"I was asking if you think it was 'fate' that brought us together. _Us,_" she said significantly.

"I don't know." Reynie felt incredibly nervous, his mouth was dry as dust. "What do you think?" he asked, in a feeble attempt to escape embarrassment

Kate's ocean-blue eyes sparkled with suppressed mirth. "Probably."

Reynie found this annoyingly enigmatic, and had to refrain from asking for clarification. Unfortunately, he found it difficult to focus on anything at the moment, for Kate was smiling up at him with immense fondness in her eyes—erasing all else from existence.

He grinned back (he most likely looked like the world's biggest fool, but he really didn't care) and gently closed his hand over hers. In a perfect world, they would have leaned in and kissed passionately; a ray of afternoon sunshine illuminating their entwined figures. But this wa certainly _not _a perfect world, for Sticky came barging into the kitchen, his arms full of freshly laundered dish towels.

He saw Reynie and Kate—holding hands—and blinked. His eyebrows shot up, his spectacles slipped down, and with a sort of strangled yelp, he backed out of the door and was gone.

"Good gravy," Kate murmured. "Could he possibly have come at a better moment?"

"Better?" Reynie frowned.

"Well, who doesn't want to walk in on their best friends holding hands?" She grinned impishly. "I say we step it up a notch."

Reynie and squeezed Kate's hand. "You don't have to if-"

"I want to!" she exclaimed. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that a girl might _actually _like you? And me, of all people?"

"It'll take some getting used to," Reynie admitted.

Kate wrinkled her brow, fretfully. "I'm not as tough as some might assume."

"I know," said Reynie.

And he kissed her.

* * *

**...Thoughts? Ideas? **

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	7. A Visitor

**Hello! I'm aware that it's been a long time since my last update; sorry about that! I've been exceedingly busy with all kinds of things, so I thought I'd just bite the bullet and write another chapter. As always, I appreciate your thoughts and comments! Enjoy...**

* * *

When Reynie left the kitchen, feeling extremely happier than when he'd gone in, he nearly collided with Constance—Sticky hovering nervously behind her.

"Hello," said Reynie, admittedly a bit suspicious. "Hello, Sticky!" He couldn't help but burst into a smile; though the whole affair was rather embarrassing.

"So." said Constance. "So." She folded her arms, and smirked. "I'm aware you were just having sexual relations with-"

"What did you tell her?" Reynie cried exasperatedly to Sticky.

"Not a thing!" Sticky retaliated. "She just barged up and told me everything. Psychic skills…" He shook his head. "And then I told her I already knew; that I'd walked in on you and Kate, er…"

"Kissing," concluded Constance, with deep satisfaction.

Reynie sighed and glanced furtively at Sticky. "Would you mind not mentioning this to the others? I'd rather not face Milligan just yet."

Sticky winced. Constance grinned.

"Oh!" Sticky yelped suddenly. "There's been a change of plans; Mr. Benedict can't leave his work after all. A woman came to visit, just now. She seemed terribly upset about something."

"Probably because her nose looked like it'd been attached wrong side out."

"Not now, Constance!"

"Fine, _George!" _

Ignoring this, Reynie pressed on, eager for details. "Do you know her intentions? Why did she come? What does she need?"

"I don't know, Reynie." Sticky swallowed with unease, producing an off-putting gulping sound.

"Excuse me." Constance looked up at the two boys, irritated. "Why are we just standing around? There's an obvious solution."

"No," Reynie said shortly. "Absolutely not."

"We explicitly promised Mr. Benedict that we wouldn't _eavesdrop _ever again." Sticky gave Reynie a bleak look; when it came to a battle of wills, Constance nearly always won.

"Rules are tools for fools," she murmured spiritedly, then added earnestly, "which explains perfectly why you boys follow them."

"Thanks, Constance."

There was a pregnant pause; Reynie was struggling to talk himself out of purposeful rule breaking, while Sticky and Constance stared daggers at one another.

"Hey!"

Turning around, Reynie saw Kate clutching a stack of water glasses, her blue eyes shining. "I've come prepared."

Making up his mind, Reynie nudged Sticky. "Come on. I suppose we can listen just this once." He hastened after Kate, feverishly praying he wouldn't blush.

The four young people were considerably larger than they had been when eavesdropping four years previously; Sticky had to stoop so low that his spectacles fell off and shattered ("They'll hear us!") and Reynie was forced to shuffle awkwardly along the narrow passage, occasionally scuffing the tip of his nose. After an interminable length of time, Kate stopped short. Doling out the water glasses, she pressed hers to the plaster and was still.

"A sense of renewed fear is present," a woman's voice was saying. "There are rumors, Mr. Benedict." Reynie pressed his ear tightly to the glass, apprehensive.

"I understand, Mrs. Scattergood. I am deeply aware of the possibility that everything we have fought to terminate may well return."

"My god," the woman breathed. Reynie thought he heard her voice catch. "Do you really believe there will be a second battle?"

Mr. Benedict did not speak for several excruciating moments. Constance fidgeted irritably in the silence. At last, he spoke: "Rosemary, there may be a second _war. _A firestorm. This is more than simply a battle."

"Then we must take necessary precautions!" Sticky cringed as Mrs. Scattergood, or, Rosemary, rather, raised her voice. "If Ten Men are coming out of the wood to—_destroy _us, we must take great care!"

"My dear, it is not you whom they seek. It is I, myself, and I've been selfish for turning away from them."

"Selfish?" Even through sixteen inches of plaster, Reynie could detect her emotion. "Nicholas, you are anything but! I am the one who tried desperately to evade the recruiters, and later, the Ten Men. If you're selfish, then I'm a pig!"

"Ah, but indeed I am selfish." Mr. Benedict spoke with a rueful tone. "If only I hadn't put that ad in the paper…"

Reynie pulled his ear from the glass, feeling rather ill. From their expressions, he could tell his friends felt the same. He resumed his position.

"They love you!" cried Mrs. Scattergood. "Of course you know that!"

"Yes, yes, but you see—I've jeopardized their lives on so many occasions. If any one of the children should die (here he faltered), I would blame myself entirely."

"Don't say that." The woman was almost accusatory. "Fate brought them to you, so you can stop blithering about it being your fault!"

In Reynie's opinion, this was a startling switch from her previous anxious state. Now, Mrs. Scattergood seemed positively business-like.

"Thank you, Rosemary, for those kind words of wisdom."

"Oh, Nicholas, do take care!"

There was a scudding sound, as though Mr. Benedict had moved his chair. "Be aware of all that goes on around you," he said gently. "These are difficult times."

Mrs. Scattergood muttered something that Reynie couldn't make out. Mr. Benedict erupted into peals of his familiar dolphin-squeal laughs. "I never doubted your brilliancy, Mrs. Scattergood. I daresay I'll be seeing you soon?"

"Yes, if no major catastrophes occur," replied Mrs. Scattergood, dryly. "Goodbye, Mr. Benedict."

The door swung open and slammed against the opposite wall; its occupants winced and clutched at each other. Two pairs of feet exited the study and all was at once, quite still.

"Well, that was uneventful," Constance said with sarcasm. "I wonder what's for dinner."

"The way that Rosemary woman was talking, you'd think we weren't going to make it to dinner." Kate drew a finger across her throat and Sticky shuddered.

"I have a feeling," said Reynie, "that things are about to get rather messy."

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**How do you like it?**

**-Spark Writer-**


	8. Desending Darkness

**I realize this chapter's a bit short, but I want to switch POV's, and it wasn't working to continue it in the same chapter. Anyway, read well!**

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Things were beginning to happen. Strange things; people rushed past each other on their way home from work in silence, the power would often flicker threateningly—as if about to blow a circuit, Mr. Benedict's mail flow decreased to a single envelope a day (always of a very consistent size and shape). It was all terribly odd, and terribly unsettling.

"He's being black-mailed," Kate said one stormy afternoon, a week or two after Mrs. Scattergood's visit. "That must be why he keeps getting that one envelope a day. Someone is threatening him."

"It's a fair point," said Reynie, meeting Kate's eyes over Constance's head. "Anyone, a Ten Man, Mr. Curtain even—could be blackmailing Mr. Benedict."

Constance snorted. "Oh yes, we all know how easy it is to blackmail someone from your _prison cell!"_

Reynie sighed. "Constance, I wouldn't be surprised if one of the wardens _is _a Ten Man. Mr. Curtain's a kind of genius; he's certainly going to have people on the inside."

Sticky twitched. "Do you suppose Mr. Curtain's planning a breakout?"

"Most likely," said Reynie. "Most likely he plans to—" Reynie stopped short, glancing at Constance.

"What?" she snipped. "What is it you know?"

Trying desperately to rub the burgeoning headache from his temples, Reynie spoke. "Most likely Mr. Curtain plans to break out and kill Mr. Benedict. Kill us all. Then he can reinstate an even better version of the Whisperer, employ an army of Ten Men, and literally 'rule the world.' Don't you see? He creates disaster!" Reynie was growing more and more agitated. "He paints the world black so he's the only light!"

Silence fell over the four people like toxic smog. No doubt, they were all imagining their own horrible deaths. A collective shudder went around the circle.

Sticky was the first to break the tension. He reached out and gently nudged Reynie. "It'll be okay, you know that, right?"

Reynie let his head drop into his hands.

"How come there aren't any Ten Women?" Constance crossed her arms insolently.

"Constance!" Kate frowned horribly at her to shut up.

"What?!"

"…Timing!"

"Well, I think it's because women are too smart for all this stupidity! Except for that dratted Martina Crowe!" Constance glowered at no one in particular.

"What about Jillson?" Kate pointed out.

"Jillson's part gorilla, she doesn't count."

Ignoring this squabble, Reynie staggered to his feet. "Perhaps one of us should ask Mr. Benedict what's going on, ourselves."

Sticky shook his head. "Definitely not me. I'll forget all the questions I'm supposed to ask."

Kate laughed. "Not me, either." She glanced dubiously at Constance, who stuck out her tongue.

"Alright." Smiling bravely, Reynie crossed the room. "I'll go." He disappeared through the door, and the room went quiet.

The trouble was, he never made it to the second floor.

* * *

**Suggestions? Thanks so much for sticking with me!**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	9. Briefcases and Blackmail

**Hurray for updates! Enjoy! **

* * *

Kate, Sticky and Constance stared at each other as the door swung shut behind Reynie. They were all quite eager to hear Mr. Benedict's speculations. Sticky opened his mouth to speak, but before he got even one word out, Constance uttered a sort of scream and clapped a hand over mouth, eyes bugged out.

"What is it?" Kate asked desperately, shooting to her feet.

Constance had begun to tremble violently. "They're here."

"Who's here?" Sticky rammed into Kate in his hurry to reach the door.

"Ten Men!" Constance whisper-shrieked. Perfectly on cue, there was a great yell of fury from somewhere above them, and much running of footsteps.

Kate's eyes were huge. Promptly locking the door and shoving a two-hundred pound bureau in front of it, she unclipped her bucket from her belt and sped to the window. Even through the lashing rain and wind, she could see the assembly of brief-case sporting business men on the other side of the iron fence.

Someone slammed roughly at their door, and the three young people snapped around, watching.

Constance tugged on Kate's arm. "There's no way out! There are Ten Men waiting in the hall and down below the window!"

A glint appeared in Kate's ocean blue eyes. "They'll expect us to flee away from them, right?" Smiling when the others nodded, she added, "Therefore, we'll flee toward them."

The ceiling was a tight fit; Constance kept berated Sticky in whispers that his knee was in her eye. Had they tried this a few years earlier, it might have been a success. Now, being full-fledged teenagers and older teenagers at that (in Kate and Sticky's case) they had to slither awkwardly through the panels, trying not bump anything. As they crawled, they heard Ten Men burst into the room they had just vacated.

"For the love of God…they're not here, sir!" More clattering; Sticky wrinkled his nose. It sounded as if someone was pulling the room to pieces.

"If they touch my encyclopedias," he muttered, then was quiet; Kate had accidentally socked him with her bucket.

Clicking her penlight and illuminating the dusty darkness, Kate turned to Sticky and Constance. "Well, it's now or never." And popping into a recess above them, she pushing gently on the board. I gave way above her. With bated breath, Sticky and Constance watched as she eased herself up and out—

SLAM.

Disoriented, Kate tumbled down, clutching a spectacularly bloodied nose. "Someone just stepped on my face," she gasped, scarlet drops appearing on her shirt. Sticky leaped back, horrified.

"Alright, duckies, playtime is over…" A man's voice spoke from somewhere above. "I believe I just had the pleasure of stepping on Miss Wetherall's nose."

"Eat my dust!" Kate shouted, and rammed the wood panel aside. She burst out of the darkness, with Sticky and Constance close behind. They gasped. A good seven Ten Men were crowded into Mr. Benedict's study. Of course, Mr. Benedict himself was nowhere to be seen. A man with a weak chin and scarred lip bared his teeth. The children hadn't seen him before. Behind him, the other Ten Men were smirking horribly. Constance recognized Mortis in the crowd, and glared.

In one single, well-choreographed movement, the Ten Men sprang forward, boxed Kate around the ears, pulled Sticky into a head-lock, and snatched Constance right of her feet. Ten seconds later, the room was quiet. Constance was out cold, Sticky had a gash running along his face, and Kate's ear were ringing. Kate, annoyed that she'd been pummeled so rudely, stamped on her captors toes, resulting in a howl, and shoved the Ten Man's own handkerchief into his face. He knocked over several of his comrades on his way to the floor.

In the ensuing chaos, Sticky slung Constance over his shoulder, and Kate shoved the door wide. "Run!" she shouted.

They tore down the stairs, and into the hall. There was an odd, furious fight unfolding before their eyes. Milligan was locked in combat with Crawlings, while Number Two had resourcefully snatched the extra pencil she kept behind her ear, and gouged her attacker. Moocho Brazos was sending Ten Men flying; senseless, they collapsed on the floor.

In the next instant, McCracken himself materialized, irate. "You imbeciles!" he roared, radiating fury. "You can't even beat a group of fools!"

Without warning, he shocked Number Two from behind, stuck his handkerchief under Moocho's nose and stepped nimbly aside, and yanked the rug from beneath Milligan. He toppled, trying to regain control. Too late. McCracken pinned Milligan with his well-polished shoe, and brutally shocked him.

"Well, chickies, I'd say that was a job well done, wouldn't you? But then-" He smiled nastily, "I don't care what you say, do I?"

Constance was stirring. She opened her eyes and glowered darkly at McCracken. "Oh. It's you."

"Yes," McCracken chuckled. "Now, if you'll be so kind as to follow me…" He made a show of whistling and cheerily shaking back his sleeves.

"Where is Mr. Benedict? Where are our parents? Where's Reynie?" Kate stuck out her jaw, furious. "Explain."

McCracken was shaking his head. "Another time, perhaps, my dears. In the meantime, your cells are waiting for you."

"Cells?" Constance wrinkled her nose. "As in jail cells?"

"Yes, dear heart, only much, _much _worse."

* * *

**Well?**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


	10. Life or Death

**Gah, this took sooo long to write! I kept plugging away, though, and I'm very glad I did. Read well!**

* * *

Reynie awoke to the sound of screaming. The screams were primal, terrible and earsplitting. And very nearby.

He sat up, blinking in the florescent light. He had absolutely no idea where he was, who it was screaming, or how he'd gotten here in the first place. The room was small and entirely silver; it was not unlike being inside a soup pot. A single light bulb was suspended above, casting an unnatural glow about the place, hurting Reynie's eyes. The screams grew louder, more frantic; Reynie shot to his feet, electrified with terror. His head was pounding fit to burst and his heart was beating fiercely with it. There was no door. No door to freedom, to whatever lay outside this room. He clutched his head, trying to think clearly. Nothing made sense. He couldn't remember anything past the meeting with his friends and being about to speak with Mr. Benedict. He leaned against the wall, wincing at its metallic coldness. It would be a waste of time to think of anything besides how to escape. He could make a more detailed, complex plan later. He began looking everywhere for an entrance, and exit, an escape, a crack—anything. Thinking of Mr. Curtain's wheelchair and his secret passageway at The Institute (opened by bumping a well-placed boulder) he started to shove the wall, kick at it and hope for the best.

But that would be too easy.

Mr. Curtain was smarter than that and so was Reynie. All at once, the screams stopped, leaving a thick silence behind. Reynie listened with every fiber of his body, desperate to discern voices. And—ah. He heard them.

"That's enough shrieking, don't you think, my dear?"

There was a faint moan.

"Why don't you have a nice nap, now?"

Reynie knew with a powerful sinking in his belly, that it was Constance whose screams had woken him. She was hurt. Hurt too badly to speak, or cry out. And he had to help her, it was life or death. Reynie inhaled deeply, exhaled and knelt to the floor, ready to make a plan.

"Ouch!" He cringed at the sudden sharp pain in his side, and pulled up his shirt. A harmless looking pencil was caught there, its tip barely digging into his skin. Upon further speculation, Reynie saw that this was no ordinary pencil. It's tip was needle sharp and lethal. He smiled. Unknowingly, the Ten Men had given him his way out.

Within ten minutes, Reynie was standing in a frightfully long corridor, surveying his surroundings. To the right, the corridor stretched until it reached an imposing doorway. No, too risky. To the left, it curved almost lazily out of sight. Maybe…

Reynie made up his mind and headed to the left, creeping as quietly as he could. His head was too light—he feared he might pass out at any moment. An odd haze hung at the periphery of his vision like a mirage. Upon reaching the first door, Reynie saw with a jump of his heart, that there was a small window in it. Making quite sure there was no one else in the vicinity, he straightened to his full height, and peered in. An ordinary looking office lay before him, complete with a few normal computers, desks and folding chairs. Nothing top-secret about it. He tried the nob. It was unlocked.

Interesting.

Knowing that the room beyond an unlocked door could act as a trap, Reynie moved on, the image of stealth. At the second door, there was also a window. He looked through it, and his stomach jolted. A frail pile of limbs lay prone on the tile floor, blond hair disheveled.

_Constance. _

He tried this nob, and it remained stubbornly locked. He pushed against it, growing more and more panicked. If it didn't open…dear goodness, Constance could die! He gave the door a shove, despising its solid obstinacy. Shocked at his own strength, Reynie twisted the doorknob hard, so hard that it yielded with a click. Swinging it wide, he burst into the room and dropped to his knees beside Constance. Someone groaned, and he snapped around, heart pounding terribly. Sticky and Kate were discarded in a corner, gagged and handcuffed together. Kate had tears running down her cheeks and soaking the cloth that constricted her mouth, while Sticky had gone quite pale and rigid. He was holding Kate, his free arm around her so fiercely he would never let go. In an instant, Reynie was there, releasing them of their gags and apologizing over and over for not getting there sooner. Unable to unlock the handcuffs, Reynie hugged them, chains and all. "Are you hurt?"

Kate shook her head. "Not enough to put us out of commission." She knelt next to Reynie as he rolled Constance on her back. They both gasped. Constance had a nasty gash in her forehead and drops of blood ran down her face like scarlet tears.

"They can't do this." Kate looked at Reynie, her nostrils flaring in barely contained fury. "They're crossing a line, torturing a child like this. They shocked her, Reynie. Shocked her and beat her and left her there to bleed. And I couldn't do anything." A tear fell onto her lap and she roughly wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "I kept imagining them hurting you, and it was all I could do to keep from screaming. There are others, here, you know."

"Others?"

"People who know things they shouldn't." Kate got to her feet, steadying a swaying Sticky.

"I'm awfully glad to see you alive, Reynie." Sticky's voice cracked, nearly imperceptibly. "How did you ever escape from where they were keeping you, anyway?"

"I'll tell you later. For now—" Reynie lifted Constance into his arms. "We need to get help. Quickly!"

They left, Reynie holding Constance as gently as he could, Kate and Sticky bound at the wrists. They hadn't gone more than twenty steps, when a great crowd of Ten Men appeared at the other end of the hall, seeming not to have noticed the horrified fugitives opposite them. In fact, they were having quite a good time cracking jokes and snickering heartily.

Sticky swore under his breath, and grabbed Reynie by the collar of his shirt. "We have to go the other way!"

Reynie spun around and they ran for it. Well, they walked quickly and with purpose. Breaking into a sprint would have been too conspicuous. Kate pulled poor Sticky along like a toy yo-yo, frantically searching for escape. "This way!" she whispered, and gestured down a side hallway. In moments, they found themselves in a room with a large table and an ample amount of chairs around it.

"That. Was. Insane." Sticky collapsed into a chair, then leaped up again as the sound of laughter reached their ears. "Oh no! They're coming this way!"

Kate looked at Reynie, and it was an appeal, a plea for help. They had run out of solutions and it was up to him. Calmly, Reynie laid Constance carefully on a chair, removed his right shoe, took aim, and hurled it at the substantial window. Ducking shards of glass, he took off his other shoe (what was the point of only wearing one?) and scooped Constance up once more.

"Brilliant," said Kate. She strode to the window, or rather, the lack of, and peered out. "There's a good drop to the ground, boys."

"We have to," said Reynie. "I know it's scary, but it's our only way out. We'll just have to manage." He took of his jacket, used it to secure Constance to him, lest she fall to her death. He went first, wincing at the sheer drop below. It didn't help that a rocky outcropping awaited them.

"You're going to get hurt, or worse," said Sticky. "You can't do this, Reynie."

"What we need," remarked Kate, glancing nervously behind, "is for Constance to wake up."

Reynie squeezed the small girl's limp hand. "Wake up, Constance. We need you."

"…Like I said, Crawlings, you'd be an idiot not to—" Garrote broke off with a strangled yelp. His eyes grew wide as the reality of the scene came crashing down upon him. From his spot in the doorway, he saw the four prisoners by the shattered window, obviously about to escape. The little girl was unconscious in the brown haired boy's arms, while the other girl and boy remained handcuffed together, glaring ferociously at him.

"Where in God's name do you think you're going?"

"Leave us alone!" Kate stepped forward, yanking Sticky's arm. "Stop blindly following Mr. Curtain's orders, and just think! Think about what you've done to us since we were eleven years old."

"You've tortured us, tormented us, captured us, hurt us!" Reynie held out a hand smeared with Constance's blood. "What will it take for you to stop?"

Garrote, Crawlings and a number of nameless Ten Men stood in the doorway, shock watches winking in the light.

"We're young," said Sticky, "but we're people, too. People who choose to do the right thing with the right people. And somehow, in this messed-up, rotten world, we get punished for that. It isn't right."

"It's cruel," said Kate.

"And if you agree with us," added Reynie, "please, _please_ walk away and give us a chance to live." The irony of the last word and Mr. Curtain's school acronym was not lost on him.

The Ten Men looked at the Mysterious Benedict Society, and the Mysterious Benedict Society looked back. And when the wall of Ten Men advanced with a fury that preceded war, the three conscious friends locked eyes and turned to their last resort.

They jumped.

* * *

**What will become of our young heroes? You'll find out...**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


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